


What’s not said…

by Shadow_crawler



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M, This is what happens, blowing off steam, geralt gets irritated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:07:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22458451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_crawler/pseuds/Shadow_crawler
Summary: …can be the best things.Jaskier won’t shut up. Geralt just wants him to shut up.Please make him shut up.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 4
Kudos: 237





	What’s not said…

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing The Witcher. I’m sorry it’s this

What’s not said…

…are sometimes the best things.

Someone could stand to learn that, to learn to keep their mouth shut.

Then they wouldn’t end up face down on a bedroll in a last ditch desperate to keep them quiet. Though, if the aggressor had been able to think, he’d have picked a better method.

Or at least a better hole.

As it was, instead, Jaskier was getting his ass plowed rather than his mouth. It didn’t make him any quieter but at least the moans were easier to digest than his constant babbling. There’d been little protest, more clever wordplay, as Geralt, annoyed, had descended on him, though Jaskier hadn’t really believed it’d get this far.

Geralt was as aggressive in bed, or on bedroll, as he looked and Jaskier was not complaining. Geralt had both his hips gripped, grunting with the exertion in time to Jaskier’s moans as every thrust rocked him against the ground. Geralt changed angles, hitting that sweet spot perfectly, and Jaskier lost his breath, panting for a moment.

He felt Geralt lean over his back, skin on skin and weight draping over him, and purred in contentment in his ear. “Finally.” Jaskier couldn’t come up with a witty reply, only shifted and pressed back against Geralt, trying to get him moving again.

Geralt grunted in reply, pushing himself up with a hand between Jaskier’s shoulder blades and started up again, only keeping his hand on Jaskier’s back to keep him in place. Not like Jaskier was trying to get up but the hold still made his cock twitch underneath him.

So close.

Please.

No words formed but Jaskier could try his best to relay the plea telepathically anyway.

It didn’t work.

Now Jaskier tried getting up, to change his leverage so he could do something, but Geralt had no trouble keeping Jaskier in place. If Jaskier’s mind wasn’t so occupied, he’d find the feeble attempt funny. Instead he tried to find his voice again but he couldn’t make more than moans.

Geralt’s voice was back in his head, “Shut up.” Then teeth on his ear, not enough to break skin but enough to make Jaskier’s voice catch. He whined as the anchor left until they reappeared at his neck, harsher, more aggressive.

He was a loud lover, Jaskier knew that, but really were the fingers in his mouth necessary? All they did was pronounce his panting.

Somehow, even bent forward, Geralt managed to snap his hips once, twice, and Jaskier could only close his eyes and hold on now. Geralt shifted again, finding his prostate, and Jaskier made an attempt to hold on until calloused fingers wrapped around his dick and he was gone, wrapped right around the cock still inside him, breath caught, teeth on the fingers in his mouth as he released on the bedroll underneath him.

Just as he was finding his breath again, the mouth on his neck disappeared, the fingers withdrew, and the coaxing rhythm of Geralt’s thrusts picked up as he chased his own orgasm. Jaskier wished he could have watched so he imagined instead, silver hair stuck to his face and his shoulders, eyes half lidded, mouth partly open.

He could feel Geralt’s hands circling his hips, holding both of his sides, and then he took off, pounding into Jaskier, faster than they’d been going before, even as he peak of Geralt’s frustration. Jaskier fisted the grass at the edge of the bedroll, doing his best to hold on until Geralt gave a choked sound and warm spilled into Jaskier’s ass.

They stayed like that, Jaskier limp, Geralt bent over him with forehead between his shoulder blades, until Jaskier started to get cold and shifted, reminding Geralt there was someone under him still. He pulled out and let Jaskier flop to the side. Geralt sighed then leaned over to pull the other, clean, bedroll closer and had to manhandle Jaskier to that one. He collapsed on his stomach behind him, face buried in his arms and ready to sleep until Jaskier turned and nuzzled into his side, beginning to shiver.

With another muffled sigh, Geralt grabbed the blanket and draped it over them then pulled Jaskier against him, sharing heat.

That’s all it was, he told himself, sharing heat.


End file.
